


Vanilla With a Hint of Citrus

by Oh_Shiny



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Rough Sex, Separations, Sexual Content, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Shiny/pseuds/Oh_Shiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cullen learns of Hawke's betrayal he avoids the woman he has fallen in-love with only to lose his control when she pays him a visit at the Gallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla With a Hint of Citrus

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 12/07/2014

Cullen sat behind his desk, slouched and cradling the side of his head in his hand while his other loosely held a quill as he watched the ink drip and stain the parchment below. He should have been writing his daily report for Meredith but he had found himself increasingly distracted of late - this very moment a prime example of his inability to stop thinking about _her_. She was his wife and he had not seen her in near to a month, he had not touched her nor had he even spoken her name. Thinking of her set a fire of longing in his heart but set his body a tremble in rage. Even his sleep was not free of her.

Before they had met he had sunk into the terrors of his past every night as he closed his eyes.  They would rip him from the living and cast him back into the halls of Kinloch Hold where he would hear the screams of pain and horror echo around him. And he would fight when he realized they were his own wounded shouts, beg for and grasp at the wakeful state that would deliver him from the scars that were etched deep within his soul. They would make him watch, demons relishing in their lust for ruin as they slaughtered the men and woman he had served beside, the people that had become his family. He would wake near dawn with a scream lodged in his throat and his linens soaked through with fear and sweat, his heart pounding while his knuckles turned white as he clutched at the bedcover.  

When he had fallen in-love with her the dreams had stopped. For the first time for so long he was able to sleep peacefully. That was until her betrayal, until he had learnt that his marriage was built on deceit. Now his nights were invaded again by dreams but not of evil and never ending sorrow but of soft lips skimming over his skin, of whispers of love in his ears, of small moans of bliss as their body’s moved together. He jumped in his chair as a hand rapped softly on the closed door to his office.

“Enter.”

Cullen gazed ahead as the door opened slowly and Marian hesitantly stepped inside with a small bundle held in her hands. He took her in with a stoic face. He didn't speak or move to greet her, just stared ahead impassively even though his body surged with desire as soon as he laid his eyes upon her. He tried to ignore the small twitch between his legs as she looked at him with wide concerned eyes, the guilt plainly written all over her face. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and she looked to have lost weight. Her silk tunic draped far too loosely from her thin shoulders and her skin no longer held its rosy glow but was pale like she hadn’t left the estate since the day he had walked out on her. She was still beautiful though, still so painfully lovely that his throat become tight and his breath stuttered at the sight of her. He cursed himself silently, thundered inwardly for still being so affected by her mere presence while her long fingers drummed out a nervous beat on the package in her hands as she waited for his acknowledgument.

“Hello, Cullen. I…” she broke off and pulled in a timid breath as her eyes lowered to stare down at her feet. “You have had letters delivered to the house. I thought you might have urgent need of them.” She stepped forward and placed the package on his desk, her voice so quite he had to strain his ears to hear her.

Marian stood unmoving and waited for him to say something and as the silence continued she lifted her head to glance at him before her eyes shot to the corner of his desk. Cullen cleared his throat as he stood, he ached to touch her—just the smallest press of his fingers to her skin—and though he tried to fight against it, to clear his mind of everything that was her but it was already too late. He took the few steps past her to the door and shut it gently, bolting it as she turned to face him. He didn’t think before shooting his arm out, the palm of his hand making contact with the centre of her chest and causing her to stumble into the desk behind her. She gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself, her quiet gasp of shock almost deafening in the silence of the room.

Cullen stepped into Marian and pulled both her hands from the desk and moved them behind her back. He gripped her wrists tightly, his large fingers easily circling the two dainty joints as he brought his other hand back around started to pull at the ties lacing up the crotch of her leather leggings. Marian didn't move to stop him—he concentrated on that, on her reactions to a man she had claimed to love—and he never moved his eyes from hers, never showed her a hint of his chaotic emotions as he finished undoing the laces and with the hand that gripped her wrists, spun her around to face the desk. He heard her breath catch as he let go of her to grip the waist of leggings and small clothes and shoved them down to where her boots ended halfway up her calves.

He pushed a knee between her thighs, nudged them apart as he laid a hand on the middle of her back and pushed the top half of her body to bend over forward. Marian’s hands lay flat on the smooth wooden surface, her feet going up on tip-toes, her breathing becoming shallow as she heard Cullen fumbling with his pants behind her. Her hips slightly shifted backwards as she felt his hand lightly run over her bottom. He put two of his fingers in his mouth, thoroughly coating them with his saliva before he slid them between her folds to only to find she was more than ready.

He dipped his fingers inside her to the first knuckle and swiped his thumb over her nub as she clenched around him, seeking more of what he could give her before he pulled them away altogether. He held her by the hips, his fingers crushing into her pale skin—he wanted to bruise her and leave her with the marks that were proof she belonged to someone—then guided the tip of his cock into her, stopping to gather himself before he thrust into her up to his hilt.

His hips smacked against the softness of her bottom as he continued to move in and out of her with all the force he could gather. He past caring if this was comfortable for her; this was for him and what he needed, not for her. Yet, he still found himself subconsciously moving a hand around the front of her hip to delve between her thighs where he rubbed a finger in circular motions over the small bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. Cullen heard a moan escape her lips and Marian started to thrust herself in return against him, could feel one of her breasts bouncing against the arm that he had wrapped around her and he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer, not when he was so desperate to consume her.

Marian’s small whimpers became more insistent as she spurred him on, her body lost in a mixture of pleasure and pain. With her pelvis bumping into the desk she lifted a hand from it, leaving only one arm to steady herself from the force thrusting into her. She moved it down to entwine with the hand that Cullen held between her thighs, bringing a finger to where his rubbed against her, joined herself with him as she tried to bring herself to the release she desperately craved.

Cullen could feel her clasping around his cock, her moaning becoming muffled as she pushed her face into her arm, her thrusts becoming erratic against him and finally her body stiffened then gave a tremor under him. A faint groan, then a whisper of his name floating from her lips as she came and her body clenched and contracted around him. It was his undoing, he thrust into her one last time as he met his release, his hands finding and grasping the edge of the desk as he let some of his weight settle on her while he gently continued to thrust against her until he had finished spending himself inside her. His heavy breathing quieting as he rested his face on her back.

Cullen slid out from inside her and pushed off the desk with his hands, his eyes remaining downcast as he adjusted his pants and Marian stayed still and limp bent over the desk, naked from her hips down to her calves as she listened to her husband shifting his clothing around behind her. It wasn't until he made a move for his chair that she bent down to pull her smalls and leggings up and laced them tight as she felt the emptiness filling her again now that he wasn't inside her. Cullen’s gaze landed on her shoulder and he noticed the smallest tremor run through her body as he looked on with a blank face.

“Cullen I…”

 He didn't let her finish. “Thank you for bringing my letters, Messere Hawke.”

“Cullen…”

“You may take your leave.” He dismissed her as he pulled the bundle of letters to him and started to untie the thin red silky scarf that held them together. He wouldn’t look upon her any longer no matter how hard it was to keep his eyes in place. He didn't want to see the expression of hurt that he knew would show on her face, he wasn’t entirely sure if he could bare it. He heard the door being unbolted and the groan of hinges as she opened it.

“I love you.” It was barely above a whisper but he had caught it.

By the time he lifted his head she was gone and the burning sensation that came to sting at his eyes as he studied the fabric that he held in his hands—red, the same shade as her lips on the rare occasions when she painted them. He rubbed it between his fingers then brought it up to feel it against his cheek and caught the slightest whiff of her scent. He moved the ribbon to his nose and deeply inhaled what he knew was her—vanilla, with the smallest hint of citrus.

He pulled up the sleeve of his doublet and carefully wrapped the scarf around his wrist before pulling the sleeve back into place, then stiffly, dutifully, went about breaking the wax seals on the folded parchments before him. 


End file.
